


Whittington Chime

by Vicarious_Virgo



Series: Virgo’s scuffed one-shots [9]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Gore, Corpses, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, Nightmares, No beta we die like... well read the fic lol, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Suspense, Vomiting, or are they?, woke up chose violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 04:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicarious_Virgo/pseuds/Vicarious_Virgo
Summary: A dinner table. Once empty chairs now claimed by your friends.Somewhere in the house, a grandfather clock chimes.:)(Rated mature just to be safe)
Relationships: Dream SMP Ensemble & Ranboo, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Virgo’s scuffed one-shots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099118
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Whittington Chime

**Author's Note:**

> Jeez there are a few warnings for this:  
> \- v*miting  
> \- blood  
> \- gore (?)  
> \- corpses  
> \- mention of insects in food  
> \- rotted food  
> \- horror elements 
> 
> I dunno if those last two need a warning but I want y’all to be safe! *shakes fic* come get y’all’s angst. 
> 
> Enjoy! <3

The sound of a grandfather clock echoed through the walls. The sound bouncing from wall to wall, making each one sound hollow and empty. Gentle candle light revealed dark oak walls and paintings of indistinguishable figures. A few armor stands stood against the dark walls, metal armor gleaming in the candle light. Suddenly, the scratching of a music disc could be heard, drowning the ticking of the grandfather clock. 

Softly, a tune filled the air. 

The cold feeling of steel in his hands was grounding. Ranboo looked down, finding his forearms leaning against the edge of the table. His eyes trailed to the objects in his hands. In the right was a fork and in the other a knife. Between his arms was a plate, empty and pristine. 

As though his body were on autopilot, Ranboo took in the details of the table. Food was laid out in front of him, the smell becoming apparent as his eyes landing on the feast. A ham laid in the middle, its glaze glistening in the light from the chandelier overhead. Other meats laid upon plates around the table, side dishes steaming beside them. 

The food only brought his attention to the chairs. It seemed as though the table expanded as he realized there were dozens and dozens of chairs. Why was he the only one? 

From some unknown location, the disc played a word a few times. 

_must be scratched then._ The hybrid figures as the song continues as though nothing happened. The teen looks down at his plate, now finding steaming food where nothing was before. 

Against his will, Ranbooo set down the cutlery in his hands. It was at that point he found himself getting antsy. Where was everyone? Why was he the only one here? 

The disc began looping words again. 

Nervously, he tightened his tie. The chair on the other end of the table was so glaringly empty, much more than the other chairs tucked under the table. Someone had to be there, it didn’t matter who else came, _he_ had to be here. 

From somewhere in the house, the grandfather clock began chiming. The music disc screeched to a stop and Ranboo found himself covering his ears. The chiming of the clock seemed everywhere, each sound emminated from the clock drilled into the hybrid’s skull. 

Ranboo opened his eyes and barely contained a cry of pain as a warm liquid trailed through the spaces between his fingers. His hands stayed plastered over his ears as the walls began to spin. It all became too much, the noise and melting of the walls caused nausea to flare from his stomach. The pain became too much, and the hybrid fell out of his chair. With a lurch, Ranboo opened his mouth, desperatly wanting the nausea gone. He heaves, and black sludge stains red carpet. 

The tall hybrid finds himself curled under the table, hands firmly over his bleeding ears. Tears slip down his face as he yells out in pain, just wanting everything to stop. 

Just as his sobs and please fade to whimpering, the clock stops. 

Black and white eyelids reveal green and red eyes. Ranboo looks down and finds himself back in his chair, still sitting at the table. His forearms lean against the table a fork and a knife in his hands. Instead of the clock or the disc, silence fills the air. Ranboo finds himself humming to its gentle melody, loving the backing track of his own labored breathing. He finds the melody alluring, the vocals are heavenly in the silence. So fragile. He figures that’s the beauty in silence. It’s always the most delicate thing in the room. 

Of course, the rollicking comes when the clock strikes again. It’s gentle chimes encore the silence’s performance. The chime is followed by the clock counting the hours. 

_...ding._

Three figures sit at the other end of the table. The tall figure of Bad is slumped over in his chair, white robes stained red. Red vines cover his skin, not releasing its grip even in death. Beside him, Skeppy is slumped the same way with the familar red vines wrapped around him. Across from the pair, Antfrost is deathly still. A slice of red velvet cake is on his plate. 

From where he sits, Ranboo finds himself satisfied _some people_ showed up. 

_....ding.._

Three more figures. More red vines. Ranboo finds himself feeling oddly grateful as the smell of roses filled the air. The roses sprouting from Hannah’s vines were quite lovely. 

_...ding.._

The table is filled up halfway, vines entangled with some people while avoiding others. It doesn’t bother Ranboo though, the hybrid sips from his cup, blinking with each chime of the clock as his friends appear. 

_....ding..._

.-. . -- . -- -... . .-.

They’re getting close to Ranboo now. Phil sits next to Techno on Ranboo’s left. A netherite blade lays beside the man’s outstretched hand, the upper half of the blonde’s body slumped over the white covered table. Ranboo finds the urge to scold the man, deciding to observe the rest of the guests. Techno has his signature mask on, bloody tears trailing from the sockets. On the other side of Phil, the chair is empty. A blue hand print stained the headrest of the chair. 

Across from Phil sat Sam, gas mask broken and his glasses shattered. Across from Techno and beside Sam is Tommy. Bruises decorate the teen’s flesh in a macabre way, though Ranboo finds himself not minding. 

_..ding...._

.-- .- -.- . / ..- .--. --..-- / .-. .- -. -... --- ---

Then there’s Tubbo. Pale and frail and Ranboo finds himself hating how blank his eyes are. Ignoring how loose the teen’s arms were around their son. 

_ding.._

The feeling of wrongness hits Ranboo all at once. Why hadn’t he realize before how wrong this was? A chill ran down his spine as silence settled in the air. The hybrid looks down at his cup, his body moving on its own to lift the cup to his mouth. 

The liquid now smells rancid, the scent crawling up his nose and staining his lungs with the smell. He drinks it against his will, the sludge crawled its way down his throat. Internally, he finds himself disgusted by everything happening. Why had he been okay with this? Okay with the way the figures in the chairs weren’t alive, okay with the way iron tainted the air. 

_Ding_

\--. . - / - ..- -... -... --- --..-- / - . -.-. .... -. --- .-.-.-

The chair at the other end of the table was still painfulllly empty. 

_....ding_

And it’s filled. 

Slumped over at the opposite head of the table is the green hooded figure of Dream. His mask is missing a fourth, and the Axe of Ender is embedded in his skull. Ranboo feels horror fill him at the sight. At the scene, at how quickly things have changed. Disgust rolls in his gut, yet his body keeps moving. 

Ranboo’s gaze turns back to the plate. 

Fried eggs sit on his plate. A long rotted slice of ham rests in his plate, insects carving their way through the meat. Yet his body moves against his will and cuts into the eggs. Red yolk escapes, trapping the insects. Despite mental protests, he eats. 

.-. .- -. -... --- --- ..--..

He eats as the disc starts playing again, this time the notes playing backwards. The melody dances in the air as creaks fill the air. The notes twirl in a long practiced waltz as Ranboo looks up, green eyes glowing from across the table. 

.-- .- -.- . / ..- .--. / -... .. --. / -- .- -.

The handle of his axe still gleams in the candlelight. From the corner of his eye, wax drips down the oak walls. It stains the paintings in its way down. Ranboo turns to look at it, puzzled at the dripping liquids presence. 

He looks back to the table, finding each corpse staring directly at him. He wants to scream- he wants to run- he wants Tubbo and Michael and Techno and Tommy and Phil- 

-.-- --- ..- .-..-. .-. . / ... -.-. .- .-. .. -. --. / -- .

He looks down at his plate once more, against his will. The eggs are gone, as with the rotted food. His plate is gone. Replaced by a smooth white mask with a simple smiley face. Blood stains the white material, cracks trailing down its surface. 

Ranboo looks up, finding only Dream at the table. He’s still slumped over, mask and axe still on his face. Everyone else has gone. They’ve left him all alone. He’s all alone with Dream. 

He’s all alone. 

It happens so quickly Ranboo can’t make a sound. Happens so quick the hybrid can’t raise his ~~bloody~~ hands to defend himself. Dream lunges across the table, reaching right at him. His exposed eyes a bright red, his nails sharp and with closed eyes Ranboo can already feel them sinking into his skin and _never letting go-_

_ding..._

He opens his eyes, and looks down. 

His forearms lean against the edge of the table, and in his hands are a fork and knife. 

.... . / .-- --- -. .-..-. - / .-- .- -.- . / ..- .--.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully y’all enjoyed that, I really like how it came out!
> 
> Also i think there’s something pretty cool in that Morse code c:
> 
> ((Pssst- tiny detail but this takes place after they kill Dream, it’s not important just thought it’d be cool to know ^^))
> 
> Thank you for reading! 🖤


End file.
